^

It’s in the country of the lime
that Judas (once again) plants
the coin with the face of Μῶμος
far ahead of this date where the sky’s

a smooth-tinted sheet of glass,
where so much from the fun house
now spins out of its straw, falling–
all these charred scarecrows

and burned-up clowns, freakish
and tearfully dwn the mud-pit
to endlessly drain, crying of 49

that self-same lot.
While you might have already donne
the math, the plot thickens

for (yeah) this fatal clot.